


Piety

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, Kissing, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 05:06:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1538723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian comes to Hawke's mansion late at night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Piety

His mouth was dry.

His mouth was so,  _so_  dry, possibly because his lips had been parted and his mouth had been open for several minutes now. He considered the ache in his jaw, how  _dry_  his mouth was, how his lips were chapped, his fingers twitching, how he had not blinked nearly as much as he ought have in the past few minutes.

Alright, so, in fact, he wasn’t thinking about any of those things, couldn’t hope to think about any of those things. It would be difficult for  _anyone_  to consider anything but the two women in front of him. Sebastian licked his lips; an unconscious motion.

Isabela was laughing, as she often did, and times before Sebastian had considered the beautiful ring of that laugh, like a Chantry bell, but not nearly as pure. But that laugh was against Hawke’s naked  _skin_ , and Sebastian felt  _dizzy_  as he stared, eyes drifting downwards, to where two of Isabela’s fingers were pressed into the Champion, and  _oh_ -

Sebastian needed to pray a lot tonight. He could feel the deep  _burn_  in his cheeks, feel stirring in his trousers - and dear Maker, against the back of Andraste’s head, too!

And yet he did not look away, powerless to even attempt to do so. Hawke’s face was a positive vision of ecstasy, her eyes tightly closed, her pretty. pink lips opened wide, and her hair was an absolute mess, mussed about her head no doubt by Isabela’s clever, wandering hands earlier, when they had been kissing.

They must have been kissing, because Sebastian can see the enticing new plumpness to Hawke’s lips, and now he peered, trying to look at Isabela’s to see if they were the same, bruised with hungry kisses, but Isabela’s mouth was no longer visible.

The pirate had dipped, wrapping her lips around Hawke’s clit and, judging by the way the other woman was choking out soft moans and quivering under Isabela,  _sucking_  at it.

Sebastian wished to be in her place, or to be in Hawke’s place, or to be between them, groaning as they disavowed him of any notion that he still belonged to Andraste. This was blasphemous and futile too; he  _did_  belong to Andraste.

He tore his gaze away and very quickly and quietly left Hawke’s home, hoping,  _praying_  that they had not seen him, that they did not know.

For all his prayer, the next day Isabela grinned at him, and said, “How’s the holy sceptre?” in the most cheerful of tones, and he groaned into his hands. Hawke laughed beside her, grinning at him with white teeth, blue eyes all but sparkling with mirth.

“You are cruel!” He complained, and he did his best to stop his thoughts from creeping back to the night before. “The both of you!”

“Oh, honey, you have  _no_  idea.” Isabela purred.

“I can show you the bruises, if you like. You left before you could see…” Hawke’s teasing was tempting, so  _tempting_ , but he shook his head all the same; for now, he would keep his piety. And for all their cruelty, they dropped the subject, allowing him respite.

Until he returned the next night, of course, and they repeated the torturous process again.


End file.
